Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Anastasia
“ D oes this hurt?” I press the pads of my fingers into Finn’s shoulder, trying to find the source of the pain.
He winces and jerks on the exam table, his body subconsciously trying to move away from the pain despite his stoic expression. “A little bit.”
“You were diagnosed with a brachial plexus injury when you were in high school, this lingering pain could be from the damage done to the nerves,” I explain as I massage his tense muscle.
He inhales sharply, gritting his teeth against the pain. “I know. It does this when I push it too far.”
I turn back to the counter, scribbling a note into his file. I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering how nuclear Graham would go if I told him tonight that his scrum-half was out of commission just a few games into the season. There’s no way the team would survive the loss of another scrum-half. “You need to take it easy, Finn. I mean it. Ice it as soon as you get changed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says quietly, keeping his eyes on his cleats. “Am I good to go?”
“No,” I respond instantly. “It needs to be iced and I need to fit you with a sling.”
“A sling?” he repeats, finally looking at me. His eyes are wide and full of panic like I’ve just suggested he hack his arm off with a dull hatchet. “For how long?”
I glance back down at his record, teeth grinding against the raw flesh inside my cheek. “At least a few days. If you keep pushing yourself, your career is over. You need to be serious about this.”
“Dr. Bellows,” Finn says softly, taking the ice pack I hand him and holding it against his shoulder. “This is my last year,” he says quietly. “I don’t want an injury to be what everyone remembers me by.”
“I understand.” I do understand, because I’ve watched this man find his rhythm and stride. I watched the first game he played when he joined the Tigers, watched his career ebb and flow as a second string, and I watched how his soul came alive when he was moved to first string. “Sling for a week. Take it easy. You’ll be back on the field for the next match.”
He sighs, his shoulders relaxing as I make a few more notes in his file. “Thank you.”
I close his record and lean back against the table, clutching the file against my chest as I meet his eyes. I’m about to lecture him on aftercare for a long-term brachial plexus injury, but the door to the exam room opens and the words get stuck in my throat.
Coach Brandt stalks into the room, followed closely by a disgruntled Graham. “Gallagher,” Brandt snaps, looking at the sling on the table beside him. “Doctor.” His voice is strained. “What’s going on?”
“He is having a flare-up from an old brachial plexus injury,” I explain quickly. “The previous injury likely caused some nerve damage, so when he over-exerts himself, the pain is worse.”
“Can he still play?” Graham asks quietly from his spot in the corner.
I don’t look at him, keeping my eyes trained on Coach Brandt. “He’ll be ready for the pitch by the next game, but practice needs to be light. No arm movements. He’s going to need to be in the sling for at least five days.”
“How can he practice in a sling?” Graham asks, agitation coloring his tone.
My nostrils flare as I round on him, unable to ignore his presence any longer. “He doesn’t!” I snap, slamming the file onto the counter. “He goes to practice to be kept in the loop. He can do leg workouts and anything left-handed, but his right arm stays in that sling.”
Graham’s jaw tightens and his hands slip into his pockets. “He’s our only scrum-half, in case you didn’t realize that. We can’t afford to bench him.”
“Really?” I retort. “Is that the position he plays?” My temper burns bright as I take a step toward Graham, ignoring the other two men in the room. “I thought for sure he was the quarterback.” I inhale a breath and snap, “Oh, right, wrong sport! That’s football!” From the corner of my eye, I can see Brandt and Finn exchange worried looks, but I can’t help my outburst. He just makes me so angry. “I know what fucking position he is! I’ve been watching this team since I could hold a ball! I know what’s at stake here!”
Graham squares his shoulders. “Then why are you benching him? Are you trying to throw the season for us?” His eyes glint dangerously as he regards me, his jaw still clenched and his shoulders tense.
I turn on him, sending my full ire toward him. “It’s five days, Callahan. I’d hardly call that throwing the season for you. It’s his shoulder, and if he doesn’t take care of it, then he’s done. For good,” I add, my tone venomous.
Brandt clears his throat, moving to put a hand on Graham’s shoulder. “It’s not a huge deal, Graham. He needs to rest or he might cause permanent damage. Gallagher,” he calls over his shoulder as he exits the exam room. “Do what the doctor says. Hit the showers and then get that arm in a sling.”
“Yes, sir!” Finn responds immediately jumping to his feet. He grabs the sling from the table and follows Coach Brandt back into the locker room, leaving me and Graham alone in the exam room.
I take a step toward Graham, my fists clenched at my sides. “How dare you!”
“Me?” He spits back. “What about keeping it professional, or was that all just bullshit too?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice rises at least two octaves as my temper boils over. My skin crawls and my heart hammers against my ribs as I try to breathe through the emotional turmoil.
“You said I don’t know what I want,” he starts, making a move toward me. Each step he takes toward me, I match with a step backward. “But I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s you that doesn’t know what you want.”
I blink up at him, backing away until I’m pinned between Graham and the counter, the edge digging into my lower back. I grip the edges tightly, knuckles turning white. “I know what I want,” I snap back.
“Do you?”
His closeness sends my body into overdrive. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and goosebumps erupt across my skin. “I want this job,” I grind out through my teeth. “And I don’t want some egotistical billionaire fucking it up for me.”
“You know what I think?” he murmurs, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in.
“What?” I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips.
“I think you’re being immature because you’re scared,” he says softly, his eyes blazing into mine.
My heart hammers in my chest and my vision blurs as my anger burns through my system. “You think I’m being immature?”
“Yes,” he responds simply, the corner of his lip twitching. “I do. This whole thing between us.” He gestures between us. “You’re twisting it and making things more complicated than they need to be.”
“I’m making it complicated?” I nearly shout in his face. “You are at least two decades older than me, and you are my boss!” I hiss, shoving my palms into his chest, trying to push him back. His scent envelopes me with each shallow inhale, driving me to the brink of madness.
My eyes dart from side to side, desperately trying to search for an escape route, but there isn’t one. My heart hammers against my ribs as I battle the urges churning inside me. Part of me wants to knock some sense into his thick skull with my fist. The other part of me wants to press my lips to the side of his neck, right where the vein is pulsing rapidly.
“You’re acting like we aren’t two consenting adults, Bellows. It doesn’t matter how old you are to me.” He flexes his biceps, knuckles tightening on the counter, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. “What does matter is how you handle these situations, and so far you haven’t handled them well.”
I arch my brow, trying to calm my racing pulse as my anger simmers just beneath the surface and wait for him to continue.
“If you want something from me, all you need to do is tell me.” His voice is soft as he leans closer. “I’m not a mind reader, Ana, and I’m not playing games here. I know what I want now. The question is, do you?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you how to be a decent human being!” I argue, shoving my open palms against his chest, trying to push him back. He doesn’t budge, but I can feel his muscles flexing under my hands. “You should just know!”
“Yes, from my vast experience of letting people in,” he snaps bitterly. “I’m not used to wanting to have people close to me. I’m not used to needing people.”
I fold my arms across my chest, pressing my closed fists tightly against my sides to keep from reaching for him. I’m not sure what I would do at this point. Slap him? Strangle him? Either way, I can’t murder the owner of the team, it’d be bad for PR. “You’re good with words, Callahan, it’s how you’ve gotten this far. But I want you to show me.”
“What about you,” he growls, his voice dipping lower as he straightens his spine and towers over me. “Your actions haven’t really shown me that you’re mature enough for this.”
My nostrils flare again and my fingers twitch. I can feel the heat of an angry blush spreading across my cheeks and down my neck. “How’s this for an action,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
He catches the movement a second too late. His shoulders tense and he flinches back as my hand flies up to his face, but instead of my palm connecting with his cheek, my fists clench the front of his shirt and pull him down.
Our lips collide into an angry kiss. For a moment he’s motionless, too stunned to respond. I take the opportunity to nip his bottom lip between my teeth as my hands tighten on his shirt.
Graham pulls back, blinking down at me in surprise. “You’re going to be my ruin, aren’t you, Doc?”
I shrug slightly, pulling his lips back to mine. Our kiss turns rough, a clash of teeth and tongue as we both fight for dominance. “Like Juliet to Romeo,” I whisper with a devilish smirk. My palms flatten against his chest again, and this time when I shove, he takes a few staggering steps back. I brush past him without another word, the ends of my lab coat fluttering as I stalk out of the room without looking back.
I clutch the handle of my suitcase with a tight fist, staring at the back of the billionaire asshole that booked a private car to ride to the airport. His shoulders shake as he laughs at something that Dominique says to him, and my stomach clenches. As if sensing my eyes on him, Graham turns his attention to me. His expression sobers and he pats Dom on the shoulder before heading toward the front desk.
“Hey, Doc!” Finn calls from the front doors.
I turn to find him waving with his free hand, the other arm is firmly secured in a sling. “Hey, Finn! How are you feeling today?” I ask as I stop beside him.
“Much better today,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “Thanks for the pain medication you dropped off last night.”
“No problem. I figured you could use an anti-inflammatory.” The truth was, I spent several hours using his record as a distraction to keep myself from knocking on the door to the adjoining room.
“Are you ready to get on the bus?” Finn asks, nodding to my bag.
“Yep. I’m heading out the door now. I’ll see you on the bus.” I give him a small wave as I walk over to the front desk and deposit my room key into the box.
“Dr. Bellows.” Graham’s low voice causes my spine to stiffen.
“Mr. Callahan,” I respond coolly, placing my suitcase between us as a barrier. Because I don’t trust myself around him anymore, and I need to keep my distance.
“I’d like for you to accompany me to the airport. We have some things to discuss,” he says lightly, adjusting the grey tie around his neck and smoothing it down his chest. He leans forward, a devilish smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “You can’t ignore me forever, Ana,” he whispers so low that only I can hear it. He looks over at the group of medical staff all but leaning forward to listen and straightens up. “Consider it a business meeting on the go.”
My heart sinks, knowing that I can’t escape him. “Fine,” I grit out through clenched teeth, fighting the wave of nausea churning in my stomach.
“Good. We’re pulling out in about ten minutes. The car’s out front.” He turns on his heels, leaving me glaring at his well-dressed back.
Unbelievable.
“I wonder if she’s getting fired,” one of the trainers whispers as I stalk past them.
“Could be,” another one confirms. “I heard they had a pretty heated argument in the exam room about her treatment call for Finn.”
I roll my eyes and grind my molars together, bile rising in my throat as their words sink in. Graham wouldn’t fire me, would he? I did say that we shouldn’t continue whatever we were doing because he was my boss.
Surely he wouldn’t…
“You coming, Bellows?” Graham’s voice is ice water in my veins.
I turn around, fighting the panic blossoming in my chest and spreading through my entire body. A thin layer of sweat coats my skin as I walk slowly up to him, feeling a little like I’m walking to the gallows.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, taking my suitcase from me.
I let it go without a fight and nod, my entire body feeling heavy and numb.
He drops his hand to the small of my back, guiding me to the car in silence. He opens the door and waits for me to buckle up before closing the door. My suitcase goes in the trunk and then Graham climbs into the driver’s seat.
I catch a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn my head, there’s nothing in the tree line bordering the parking lot. I turn my eyes back to the dashboard, staring at the line on the map as it recalculates, pulling up a route to the airport.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “Are you firing me?”
Silence.
He clears his throat. “It would not be in the team’s best interest to let you go in the middle of the season.” His voice is level and controlled, business-like.
My head whips around and I blink back the tears gathering on my lashes. “The team’s best interest?!” His jaw clenches and I watch his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes several deep breaths. “What about you?”
The miles tick by in tense silence, neither of us daring to even breathe too loudly. My vision blurs through the tears streaming down my cheeks, and my heart clenches in my chest. His lack of response is answer enough.
We can’t possibly make this work.
Every time we’re together we basically bite each other’s heads off. The age difference is too much, and we’re at different points in our lives. I have to accept that this is the decision that I wanted.
That we needed.
As we pull into the rental return lane at the airport, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands and take a steadying breath.
I can do this.
This is my dream job, and I need to put personal issues aside so I can be there for the players and practice the best medicine. It’s what they deserve.
“Ana,” he calls as I climb out of the car and pull my suitcase from the back. Graham rounds the car and steps into my path before I can make my escape. He steps closer and tentatively brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “It’s in my best interest –”
“Dont,” I cut him off and hold up my hand, stepping away from him. “We’re in two different places, and I’m not sure I can even get to the place you are.” I turn and disappear into the crowd of travelers, eyes still burning from the tears leaking down my cheeks. I glance over my shoulder and find him still standing in the same spot, eyes watching me as I leave him behind.
Something inside me shatters, and it feels like I’m leaving that piece behind with him.